The Aftermath of War
by Kaymanay
Summary: Lord Osen, Administrator to the Magicians Guild of Kyralia, has finally come out to face his grief. But is it that easy to let go? [Trudi Canavan Black Magician Trilogy]


Lord Osen, Administrator to the Magicians Guild of Kyralia, has finally come out to face his grief. But is it that easy to let go?

Warning: Akkarin/Sonea. Angst. If you want you can take it as slightly Osen/Lorlen. It can be intended as a Lovers grief or a Friends grief. Whichever you find most interesting.

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Osen's eyes grazed over the front of the University, they strayed to the stairs, to the large doors which now bore the tell tale scorch marks of battle. They strayed to the Magicians quarters and to the Novice's, to the Healers' quarters and to the Arena. They looked anywhere and everywhere but _that_ spot. Where _he_ had died. Kyralia's saviour.

_Akkarin._

He had come out here to face his grief, to finally accept his loss. So many had died, and he realised that by facing his grief for Akkarin he could face his grief for all the other Magician's lost in the battle's fought. _The Fort, Calia, Kyralia_. His eyes flickered quickly to the black stain on the ground. It outlined a distinctly human form. Akkarin's body. No one had yet thought to clean it. On some level he was glad, despite the sinking, sick feeling that weighed on his stomach as he looked at it. _People need to remember what he did for us_. _What better Monument than the blood he spilt for us_?

Osen closed his eyes and took a deep breath as his thoughts moved to Sonea. She had been through so much; so much hurt and pain. _Too much for it to end like this_. Alone, raising a dead mans child. He had watched quietly as everyone comforted her; "_Everything will get better _…" they promise her. It was only him who saw the dead look in her eyes. He had realised, the first time he saw her after the last battle, part of her had died with Akkarin. Something she would never get back. That's when he had seen it, she had _loved_ him.

Osen drew a shuddering breath, his eyes suddenly blurry. The moon had risen and a cold fog was beginning to set in. He smiled grimly as he remembered the storm that had raged the night after the battle. The earth had grieved for her fallen Warriors. Her screams of pain and grief had been heard by all in the howling wind as they stood and shielded the bodies of hundreds from her tears. Her grief had left them all haunted. Only Sonea had smiled, as she stared up at the rain battering the shield that protected her and Akkarin. She had smiled then, but she didn't smile now.

Osen sighed and moved into the University, his eyes purposely avoiding the walls. They were now adorned by hundreds of plaques, bearing the names of all the Magicians who had died. The Warriors at the Fort, the Magicians at Calia and the Final battle for Kyralia. Two large black marble plaques stood at precedence on the left wall. Osen squeezed his eyes shut against the torrent of tears as he remembered the words on both plaques; branded into his mind.

_High Lord Akkarin._

_Died Age 33 in defence of the Allied Lands._

_Beloved Friend and Lover._

_Rest in Peace and Honour._

_Administrator Lorlen._

_Died Age 33 in defence of the Allied Lands._

_Beloved Friend._

_Rest in Peace and Honour._

A sob caught in Osen's throat as he hurried from the entrance hall, not caring where his feet took him. His grief for Lorlen weighed heaviest of all. The magician had taken him on as his assistant, given him a place in the guild and a purpose. Osen had never been particularly good at Healing or Alchemy, and he had no interest in becoming a Warrior. Osen had been lost until Lorlen had come along, offering him the position of Assistant to the Administrator. Lorlen had been a Mentor and a good friend. _Not anymore_, he thought wryly. Osen stopped abruptly and stared at the door in front of him. The Administrators Office.

_Lorlen's Office._

_No_, he caught himself, _My Office_. He hadn't had the heart to enter the small room yet, despite the fact he had held the position of Administrator for over a week now. Entering would have meant accepting Lorlen's death. He wasn't ready to do that_. But that's what I'm here to do though_, he thought to himself_, accept my grief_. Osen stared at the Gold plaque on the door which now declared him as the Administrator. He felt a heavy thudding in his chest as he realised he had unconsciously reached out towards the handle, his hand and inch away. All he had to do was touch it; touch it and all the pain would go away. Everything would be fine.

_Everything **will** be fine_.

His hand brushed the handle and the door swung inwards, revealing a dark comfortably furnished room. His office. Several piles of letters scattered his desk_. No doubt congratulations and condolences_. Taking his first step into the office and inhaled deeply; Lorlen's scent still lingered in the air. A wave of nausea hit him as the grief weighed down on him even heavier as guilt welled up in his throat. _I'm not betraying him_, he thought to himself, _I'm not. He would want the guild to continue on. To stay strong. I have to be strong, for Lorlen._

_But he's not here to be strong for_.

Osen gave into the tears that had been threatening to fall, crumbling to the floor in a jumble of blue robes. Something inside him broke; the grief lifted, the guilt fled and he was left feeling hollow. The nausea stayed, washing over him in waves. This empty feeling was the worst thing he had felt. He wanted the pain back, the guilt, and the heart wrenching grief, anything but this. He realised, vaguely, that he was shaking, and the ache in his stomach had increased to the point where he was becoming dizzy.

"Osen, when was the last time you ate? You look terrible" Osen smiled wryly as he recognised Sonea's voice. He felt terrible.

"I can't properly remember." Osen stared at the floor, determined not to look at her. He couldn't, not yet. For some unexplainable reason, he felt ashamed. _Ashamed of being weak_? Sonea remained silent, and Osen began to wonder if she was going to say anything. His eyes flicked up slightly and were met with Sonea's pale face not inches from his own. Her small hand moved to cup his cheek. She looked worse than he felt.

"I know it's painful, Osen. But they wouldn't want us sitting around crying over them. They'd want us to be strong" There was that word again. _Strong_. What was there to be strong for?

"The Guild, Akkarin and Lorlen, our friends. For _ourselves_." Osen looked up at Sonea in surprise, how had she …? "Be strong for me, Osen." Sonea's face shifted between pain and desperation. She needed him. She pushed herself up from the crouch. "Now come on, clean yourself up and meet me in my rooms. I've had Takan prepare a small meal." Osen gave a barely perceivable nod. He pushed himself up as Sonea's footsteps moved toward the door.

"Sonea?"

"Yes, Osen?" Her footsteps halted.

"Thank you." He could feel Sonea smiling at his back.

-_Thank **you**, Osen_. The emotion behind the sending had washed over him and he revelled in the relief at having someone. Someone who understood; someone he could share in his grief with. Heaving a deep breath, Osen spun around to face her and gave her a sad smile. She was all he had now. As Sonea started out of the office and down the corridor he followed with two words ringing in his ears:

_Be Strong_.

It sounded remarkably like Lorlen.


End file.
